


We Drive Tonight

by honestys_easy



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: American Idol - RPS, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-31
Updated: 2007-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestys_easy/pseuds/honestys_easy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By all rights, Cisco should have been anywhere but here, driving his close friend in the middle of the night, tired and sober and bored. But he'll suppose he'll make due.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Drive Tonight

Technically, it wasn’t even Blake’s birthday anymore.

It was past midnight in the hottest, hippest, scene-iest city in the fucking world, and by all rights Cisco should have been sidling beside some hot, young aspiring model/actress/whatever giving all his best lines to women too drunk to care. It was completely incomprehensible that he was driving down I-96, in the dark and under the speed limit no less, being the responsible good friend to one of the newest celebrities in Hollywood.

A moan drifted from the backseat. Cisco silently cursed Kristi for being hundreds of miles away – she was always the one the group pawned the short, bouncy beatboxer off on at times of extreme drunkenness or emotion. Though at this point Cisco believed Blake was a hefty share of both. He wondered how he ever became the responsible one.

“We’re gonna fuckin’ stir shit _up,_ ” Blake had said to him back in May, when the Idol execs revealed that he would not only be in town for his birthday, but on a day off from tour no less. “You, me, the Richness of course, Ginger if she gets her ass out of the house. It’s gonna be legendary, man.”

Legendary, Blake promised. So then why were the three of them traveling down a dark highway, Cisco unhappily sober and the other two nearly too exhausted to move?

His first sign things weren’t going to go as planned was when Ginger had called him that morning, complaining about a gig she couldn’t get out of and apologizing profusely. The day had flip-flopped from there, Blake in between press interviews telling him to drive down to Anaheim, fuck the chick and alter the plans; then texting him fifteen minutes later morosely telling him not to bother. It had only been three hours ago that Blake had made up his mind, his voice over the phone garbled from cheap alcohol and the sound of Gina Glocksen squealing devilishly in the background. Dude, why are you not _here?_ he asked, and so the dutiful friend that he was, Cisco hopped into his car, and here he was.

The unmistakable tone of Blake’s voice cast a soft sound throughout the car. Cisco couldn’t tell if he was humming out of pleasure or if the soft noise was Blake snoring. Hell, at the rate these two were riding life at this point, it very well could have been either; Cisco got winded just glancing at their daily schedules.

“You two good back there?” His eyes locked onto the sight of his old friend nearly falling into his boyfriend’s lap from exhaustion, his heavy-lidded eyes on the verge of both weary and wasted. “I know it’s late…”

Cisco drifted off, having the distinct feeling that neither man in the backseat was listening. Chris was awake and alert, but his attention was not on the passing streetlights or the jeep’s driver. Eyes cast downward, he seemed to almost be holding his breath at the sight of Blake’s head resting lazily in the rich expanse between Chris’s shoulder and his navel, the older man in a state of frustrated, drunken sleep. A smile played on Chris’s lips softly, as he raised a hand to brush an errant strand of inky black hair out of Blake’s face.

Suddenly feeling like he was intruding on a very intimate encounter, Cisco’s eyes turned back to the empty road, an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. He had seen Blake with others before, seen him get overly emotional and wear his heart on his sleeve like a bright, fresh tattoo. In the years he’d known Blake, from the schoolboy crush he’d harbored on their ninth grade geometry teacher to the first girl who let him get to second base, to the first man he ever fell for – he’d seen Blake be enamored with all of them. How his lips curved upwards and his eyes traveled to some faraway thoughts in his mind when he talked about them. And each time, like flipping over an hourglass as it continually emptied itself, Blake’s friends were there for him when he reverted to a mopey, sobbing mess when they didn’t feel as strongly about him. Most of the sobbing was delegated to Kristi, while the duties of getting Blake drunk enough to forget about his latest heartbreak were usually Cisco’s forte.

But never had he seen someone else with the same distant, infatuated look as Blake held. No one but Chris Richardson.

It took a few seconds for Chris to answer, his voice a soft, low timbre so as not to awaken the sleeping birthday boy curling an arm across his chest. “Yeah, we’re doing fine,” he said, never taking his eyes off of Blake. “Doesn’t look like we’ll be going out, though.”

Cisco nodded. “Passing out during the pre-game,” he said with a chuckle. He always felt comfortable talking with Chris, more than anyone else Blake tried to bring into their inner circle. Perhaps they all should have known Chris was different from all the others based just on that, but then again, Blake was never one to require his friends’ approval before giving his heart away. “Classic B-Shorty.”

He heard Chris match his laugh, but it quickly died down when the snoring coming from Blake stopped, he emitted a low groan and complained over the sudden movements of his human pillow. “Hey, look man,” Chris continued in a hushed tone once Blake seemed to be asleep once more, “I’m really sorry that we dragged you all the way out to Anaheim, must have been a bitch to get there. But, um…can we crash at your place tonight? It’ll be a miracle if I can get this guy awake long enough to get out of the car, much less get him in a hotel room for the night.”

Chris bit his lower lip nervously in the rear view mirror as Cisco pulled onto the off-ramp. Chris knew, it would have been one thing for a drunken, tired Blake to insist on monopolizing Cisco’s living room couch, but quite another for the friend to accept both men. But Cisco nodded his head again almost instantly; Chris, after all, was obviously far different from the others Blake had, had in his life. And from what he’d witnessed this past spring and the affection he saw between the two in his car that night, Cisco realized that Chris was going to be a part of the whole Blake Lewis package for quite a while.

“Dude, you don’t even have to ask, you’re like a fuckin’ part of the family already.” He thought that would receive another chuckle from Chris, but the other man was strangely silent. When the driver turned to look in his direction again, he saw Chris smiling again, staring down at Blake in an unflinchingly open manner, his hand upon Blake’s shoulder, stroking lovingly with his thumb. Cisco matched the smile himself; it was definitely true, Chris fell right in step with the rest of Blake’s group and was now an integral member of their close-knit family. But it was always validating to hear someone else say the sentiment aloud.

Clearing his throat at a red light, Cisco continued, though with Chris’s sagging eyelids he wondered for how long he would have this captive audience. “And, well…it’s true. You and Blake…you obviously mean a lot to him.” Cisco only hoped that Chris was buzzed and worn out enough to forget this conversation ever happened the next morning; if anything, Cisco didn’t need this admission getting back to Blake’s ears, he’d never hear the end of it. “And you’re keeping his huge head in check, too…you’re good for him, Rich.”

There was silence for a few seconds; Cisco thought he had crossed that invisible line of guy propriety, but it was just Chris mulling over the words, letting them stew in his head before answering. His voice was a bit choked when he did respond, the grip on Blake’s shoulder a bit tighter. “Thanks, man…thank you.” Chris’s head then dipped down below the line of the rear view mirror’s sight to press his lips against Blake’s matted, tousled hair.

And somehow, that one short conversation under the streetlights of the California freeway, Chris’s one admission of gratitude, made Cisco stop grumbling over playing a glorified chauffeur, and he drove the rest of the way in silence, a soft smile playing on his lips. They might not have gotten the opportunity to live it up in the trendiest of clubs Los Angeles has to offer, but Blake spent the last minutes of his birthday dozing, close to good friends and exciting times, falling into a happy sleep within his boyfriend’s loving arms. And perhaps, Cisco mused, that was everything he truly desired.


End file.
